


All These Minutes Passing

by helvetica_upstart



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Coming Out, David and Stevie as best friends sharing 1 (one) braincell, F/F, Friends With Benefits, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Ted does not make an appearance in this story, but he’s mentioned as Alexis/Ted are in a negotiated open relationship with ~ground rules~, canon compliant if you squint, shameless descriptions of the kit kat girl costumes because those had me Too Gay To Function
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 10:00:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18736792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helvetica_upstart/pseuds/helvetica_upstart
Summary: Alexis runs a fingertip from Stevie’s collarbone down her chest until it brushes under the lace edge of the costume slip’s bodice. “You’re sweaty, Ms. Bowles.”Stevie isn’t that sweaty, but she’s not about to derail this game. She says, “You know how I am with dancing.”“Sweat’s bad for silk. You should take it off.”





	All These Minutes Passing

“You were good today.” Alexis leans against the door to Stevie’s dressing room, face cast in shadows from the uneven hallway light. When Stevie catches her eyes, Alexis’s smile turns sultry. She strides over and stands behind Stevie’s seat at the vanity. Alexis runs her palm along the chairback, knuckles brushing between Stevie’s shoulder blades.

“So were you,” Stevie says, even though she really wasn’t: Alexis doesn’t try that hard in rehearsal, or at most things ever. She watches her own face in the mirror, careful to keep a mask of disinterest in place. It’s a misstep, though. In the reflection she sees the contrast of the sharp choker around Alexis’s neck to the soft skin revealed by Alexis’s gaping slip as she leans forward. It’s impossible to look disinterested in that.

Alexis rests her chin on top of Stevie’s head, her hair tickling Stevie’s neck. She runs a fingertip from Stevie’s collarbone down her chest until it brushes under the lace edge of the slip’s bodice. “You’re sweaty, Ms. Bowles.”

Stevie isn’t that sweaty. She says, “You know how I am with dancing.”

“Sweat’s bad for silk. You should change.”

Stevie’s never had sex like this before. Alexis is a study in subtext, talking endless circles around what she actually wants. It’s all hints and build-up, nonchalance between the two of them like this isn’t happening until it’s inevitable, until Alexis is gasping into Stevie’s ear _fuck me, yeah, fuck me._

Also, Stevie’d never had sex with a girl, before Alexis. She hasn’t asked but Alexis’s confidence with the territory makes Stevie pretty sure she has. Stevie hadn’t even know Alexis liked women until Alexis’s thigh was between hers. To be fair, Stevie hadn’t known about herself for sure until then either.

She hadn’t known that Alexis was in an open relationship with Ted until after, when Alexis mentioned it to make sure Stevie knew they hadn’t done something wrong. Stevie hadn’t even given a thought to caring, which maybe makes her a terrible person, but.

Stevie stands up from her chair, body brushing against Alexis as she does. She steps to the side, just out of Alexis’s reach, and pushes the straps of her slip off her shoulders. Stevie’s slip isn’t tight. The silk falls to the ground, puddling around her high-heeled feet.

Stevie looks away from the mirror, because her confidence at being on display is much higher when she’s looking at the sheer want reflected on Alexis’s face instead of her own bared body. She runs one hand down her own stocking-clad thigh. “Should I take this off too?”

Alexis swallows. “I think sweat is fine for elastic, actually.”

“Cool,” Stevie says, and turns away. She needs something to do with her hands, so she picks up the slip and goes in search of a hanger.

“You know, I actually went to school here for a bit.” Alexis is so casual that this could be a conversation over a smoothie at the cafe. “There’s a locker room if you want to shower. So you don’t have to drive home sweaty.”

“There’s an idea,” Stevie says, mild. Stevie got a doctor’s note to get out of gym in high school. She’s never been inside the locker room. And they don’t have shower shoes, so they’ll probably get athlete’s foot or worse.

But Alexis always takes flight when Stevie tries to get them back to her apartment, and there’s no way Stevie’s going to the motel. Johnny Rose seeing her topless once was one time too many. She’s not thrilled for him to know _both_ of his children have seen her topless, too.

Gross.

Stevie slips on a fluffy robe— Moira stocked all of the dressing rooms with “essentials”— and opens the door to the hallway. “You coming?”

Alexis follows her, a half-step behind, one hand on Stevie’s waist like she’s guiding her. Like she doesn’t know Stevie actually went to school here, and not just for a semester as a thirty-year old. Actually, knowing Alexis, it’s entirely possible she doesn’t know that about Stevie at all.

“So we’re just gonna—” Stevie picks up three towels from the linen closet and lays them on the floor of a shower stall, hoping that minimizes their contact with teenagers’ afflictions. Stevie starts the water, knowing it will take a moment to heat up.

“You’re so smart, Stevie!” Alexis thumbs Stevie’s cheekbone affectionately. “I’ll hop in that one too, so we don’t run out of towels.”

“Good call.” Stevie pushes her stockings down her thighs, then unhooks her bra. She waits until Alexis is taking off her costume too— she has to wrestle her slip over her head, it’s much tighter— before taking off her underwear as well. She jumps into the warmth of the shower. It has terrible water pressure, more a mist than anything else, which would be annoying post-gym but is ideal for this.

Alexis steps in with the confidence of someone who knows she looks good even with wet hair. It’s a small cubicle. There’s maybe a centimeter of space  between them. The water feels like it’s getting hotter, but goosebumps rise on Stevie’s arms anyway.

The first time Stevie had seen Alexis naked, she was shocked. Hidden under her flirty rompers and little sundresses, Alexis’s body tells an unexpected story. She has more than one questionable tattoo, several burn marks, and a few silvery scars from her time making reckless decisions internationally. _A small helicopter crash, stray swing of a street knife, the sultan had a tiger, wrong place wrong time._

“I’ll wash your hair,” Alexis says, pressing the pump on the wall. It squirts a chunky green blob of shampoo onto her palm that smells like pine.

“You don’t want me to do yours first?” Stevie teases.

Alexis makes about ten faces before settling on saying, “I actually only wash my hair every third day? And this isn’t my day or my, um, product.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s my product either,” Stevie says. She doesn’t really give a shit about her hair, though David has given her some nicer things from the store so it’s been softer lately. But if she lets Alexis start then they’ll have to do the whole routine, and Stevie will be soaped up and begging for it before they finally kiss.

She guides Alexis’s hand under the spray until the shampoo washes away, then guides that hand to her breast.

Alexis gives a shaky exhale. She presses close to Stevie until their full body lengths are touching, warm and slick. Alexis feels alive in a way few have to Stevie before; warm and thrumming everywhere they touch. Stevie’s hands run up the wet skin of her back. Alexis knots her hands into Stevie’s hair and uses it to keep her where she wants her, leaning down until their lips meet in a kiss.

Alexis’s lips are plush and confident. She doesn’t use a lot of tongue, so the kiss would be near innocent if they weren’t also rubbing their wet bodies together. Alexis starts off gentle, running her thumb around Stevie’s breast so lightly Stevie gets hot and desperate. She breaks their kiss to nip at Alexis’s neck, gasps, “Please.”

“Shh, shh,” Alexis soothes like Stevie is a spooked horse. Then, in one smooth motion, she gets a thigh between Stevie’s legs and pinches at Stevie’s nipple. Stevie cries out. They rock together, heat tightening in Stevie’s pelvis so quickly it’s near painful. Stevie feels on edge and desperate for it, for everything, for anything Alexis will give her.

Alexis takes her hand out of Stevie’s hair and scratches down Stevie’s back, such a gentle pain that her body takes it as pleasure. Alexis’s long, manicured nails had been an argument, a dozen hook-ups ago— Stevie said she wanted Alexis’s fingers inside her next time. Alexis had gasped and said, _that would hurt you!_ wiggling her fingers like Stevie maybe hadn’t thought of that already. _I was warning you so you’d clip them_ and Alexis had laughed like that was a good joke. Stevie had been bitterly annoyed for a few days and not known why: she doesn’t even like penetration that much, has never come from being fucked by someone’s fingers before. Not like she comes against Alexis’s thighs or tongue or thumb against Stevie’s clit. Eventually she realized she wasn’t annoyed about the nails. She annoyed because Alexis wouldn’t change for her, because Stevie wanted to be someone worth changing for. They made up when Stevie got over herself, or maybe she was just horny: it’s hard to remember the order of things.

Stevie grips Alexis’s hips to keep their balance, fingers digging into the tattoo right above her ass. Alexis groans and spreads her legs so their grinding can get dirtier. Stevie’s a full head shorter than Alexis so she has to strain on her tiptoes to get a good angle, to press her clit against Alexis’s solid thigh. The muscles in her calves burn and she likes it. Alexis rubs off against Stevie’s thigh, a different slickness than the water around them. Stevie knows when they’ve got the right angle because Alexis’s breath hitches and her grip tightens in Stevie’s hair. Every shuddery breath against Stevie’s skin has her on edge: she thinks she could come just from the sounds Alexis makes, probably.

“Yes, babe,” Alexis gasps, head dropping down to mouth at Stevie’s neck, to kiss up her jaw. “Mmm.”

“Yeah?” Stevie asks. Alexis knows what it takes to get her there. She keeps her thigh steady against Stevie’s pulsing grinds, getting her hands back on Stevie’s breasts. She’s rough now, and Stevie fucking loves it. When Alexis bites at Stevie’s bottom lip, canines pressing into the tender skin, Stevie comes with a drawn-out moan. It hits her in waves, radiating across her body like the tide pulled in. Her nerves crackle from her wet scalp to her submerged toes. Her vision blacks for a second and she presses closer to Alexis to make sure she doesn’t slip, to nuzzle the tender skin of Alexis’s neck over her pulse point.

She knows the water is about to get cold, so she drops to her knees. There’s a gross squelching sound against the soggy towels but that— whatever, it’s another reason to get Alexis off fast.

“Ooh, love this turn,” Alexis says. She braces one foot against the opposite shower wall, so she’s spread open for Stevie, rosy and glistening. Stevie doesn’t bother teasing. She works Alexis with two fingers rubbing inside her and a tongue against her clit, chasing and inescapable when Alexis’s hips buck. Alexis always makes stupid noises when she comes, a high-pitched sqwacking _ah ah ah_ , but it makes Stevie smile.

They both stay there, breathing hard, as the afterglow fades. Still kneeling, Stevie tips her face up to watch Alexis’s expression. She goes pink like raspberry lemonade when she comes and her brows get this cute furrow. Her chest heaves with each gasping breath. She’s looking at Stevie too, aqua eyes wide and fond. Then Stevie remembers where they are and stands up, flicking off the water. Alexis stretches like a cat getting up from a nap in the sun, then winks at Stevie and gets out to toss her the robe.

“You were good today,” Alexis says teasingly, an echo of her words from earlier. By now, Stevie’s used to this— Alexis always wants to unpack after they have sex. At first, Stevie had thought it was coy self-congratulation, because of course Alexis was fantastic at this. Then, once, Stevie had teased _It was just okay_ and Alexis had gone panicky and flustered.

“So were you,” Stevie obliges, and Alexis tosses a smile over her shoulder as she puts on her own robe. Then she steps into the shadowy hallway and slips away without so much as a goodbye.

***

The town has been talking Rose Apothecary’s moonshine tasting for weeks. The store is bustling with vendors selling their homemade liquor. There are a dozen different flavors to try. Stevie’s been drinking them straight, even though David’s an absurdly good bartender. He took customers’ moonshine purchases and mixed them drinks with deft hands, asking over the pulsing music, “Oh, would you like to buy grenadine and black cherries with that? Bitters? Or maybe some rosemary?”

People came from other towns, even.

There’s a man from Elmridge flirting relentlessly with Alexis. Which is— not Stevie’s business at all. Stevie knows none of this is exclusive, that theoretically Alexis could have a whole horde of lovers besides her and Ted, but it rankles. She probably wouldn’t care so much if she were sober, but she’s not, and she can’t look away.

Like she can sense Stevie’s hot gaze, Alexis turns around. Stevie holds up her just-purchased jar of spiced rhubarb moonshine, waving it jauntily. Alexis slips away from the Elmridge guy with a flirty wink and siddles up to Stevie. She’s dressed for a cocktail party, tight black sequined dress and fuck-me red heels. It makes her even taller than Stevie, who’s just in her usual jeans and sneakers.

“Ooh, is it yummy?” Alexis asks. Stevie unscrews the lip, and Alexis wafts the vapors towards her instead of taking a sip like a normal person. “Smells good.”

“Tastes good,” Stevie says, voice low. Alexis is so close to her, but no one is paying attention. No one would look at them and think…

“Have you ever done a body shot?” Alexis asks. Stevie has, but she knows the game is to say no.

“I haven’t. Am I missing out?”

“Um, yes you are, babe,” Alexis says. “Let’s go the back.”

Stevie glances at David and Patrick, but they are too busy managing the hubbub to notice as Alexis leads her by the hand into the inventory room. There’s a worn couch in there: Stevie really doesn’t want to think about all the ways David and Patrick have probably put it to use. But she sits on the back of it so she’s nearly the same height as Alexis standing.

Alexis pushes the wide neckline of Stevie’s shirt off her shoulder. “Here, kinda, do— yeah, that,” Alexis says, pushing at Stevie’s shoulder until she’s positioned in a way that creates a dip between her neck and collarbone. Alexis pours the moonshine into the hollow. It’s cold, and Stevie shivers all over. Alexis kisses Stevie’s pulsepoint, then lower. She licks up the moonshine with confident strokes of her tongue against Stevie’s skin, until surely she’s gotten it all, until she’s just teasing Stevie with traced patterns.

“You can do me,” Alexis says when she pulls back. She pours some down her cleavage, much sloppier than she’d been with Stevie. Stevie chases the liquid, stopping the rivulets with her slack mouth from staining the neckline of Alexis’s low cut gown. Then she just lingers, smearing her lips across the supple skin of Alexis’s breasts. She kisses her cleavage, then up Alexis’s neck. Stevie can feel Alexis’s fluttering pulse under her lips. She can’t resist kissing it, then biting down.

“Oh!” Alexis says, and pulls Stevie away from her neck. “Sorry, no hickeys. It just gets weird.”

Stevie feels staticky and overheated. “Right. Of course. Sorry.”

“No big deal, girl!” Alexis chirps, but she’s clearly flustered. To recover, Alexis lifts Stevie’s shirt off and pushes her back down on the couch. She kneels on the ground beside Stevie and pours the moonshine onto Stevie’s stomach. Which— Stevie doesn’t love her stomach, she doesn’t have abs like Alexis does, but it’s hard to care when Alexis is sucking kisses into the sensitive skin.

“More, please,” Stevie says, unfastening her jeans, and Alexis rocks back on her heels.

“Um, babe, I think that’s bad for your PH?” Alexis looks so genuinely concerned for Stevie’s vag health that Stevie has to laugh.

“Great point, just pretend,” Stevie says and Alexis gives a pleased hum as she kisses down Stevie’s abdomen.

The curtain rattles back as Patrick walks in. He exclaims, “Oh!”

“Oh my God,” Stevie says. She and Alexis leap apart from one another. Patrick averts his eyes politely while Stevie pulls her shirt back on. She wants to fasten her jeans, but maybe Patrick hadn’t noticed those were undone and she doesn’t want to draw attention to it.

Patrick is clearly liquored-up, cheeks blotchy, amber eyes glassy. He’s making a face like a stunned little turtle, flipped upside down onto his shell. “Um, David’s about to walk in, so please—”

“Ew!” Alexis cries, “Ew, ew, ew, are you two leaving your own party to hook up back here? That’s so cliche.”

Patrick’s jaw drops. “ _You_ left our party to hook up back here first!”

“Ugh,” Alexis snaps, but reassembles herself into presentable. She sits next to Stevie on the couch, tapping at her phone, playing it cool.

David walks in. He gravitates towards Patrick like magnets clicking together, hands finding Patrick’s waist. Then, he notices the two of them there right as he’s about to press a sloppy kiss onto Patrick’s lips.

“Hiiii, David,” Alexis trills, waving at him with limp wrists, “It’s so funny you’re back here. Almost like you and Patrick were trying to _rendezvous,_ poor things _._ ”

David’s face twists in the brand of annoyance only Alexis can draw out of him. “Oh my God, Alexis, go choke—”

“It’s just like really teenage and sad and gross, I think—” Alexis taunts.

Patrick mutters, “How did this turn on us?”

It’s clear that David and Alexis are going to be bickering for a while, both of them tipsy and frothing for an argument. Patrick catches Stevie’s eye and jerks his chin towards the curtain. The two of them escape back into the store.

Moira is warbling on the makeshift stage. Stevie knows from watching her rehearse that there’s at least ten minutes left in this set: no wonder David and Patrick had thought they could slip away.

Patrick keeps walking and sits on the bench outside the store. It’s a crisp night. Stevie sits beside him, both of them staring at the Cafe’s darkened windows. He swallows and says, “Sorry for… if you weren’t ready for me to know…”

Stevie snorts. “You walked into your own inventory room, it’s not—”

Still, the drunken feeling in her chest has tilted into something weird and prickly. It feels strange for someone besides her and Alexis to know she’s not straight. Even if it’s just Patrick.

His eyes are heavy on her face like he knows. Of course he does. He came out to the entire town when everyone learned he kissed David, approximately twenty minutes after it happened. “Still. I’m sorry.”

Stevie exhales. “Don’t say sorry. Say… congrats, maybe?”

Patrick holds up his hand for a high five that Stevie reluctantly returns. His mouth quirks into a smirk. “Congrats to myself, really. I have two fewer straight friends than I thought I did this morning.”

Stevie laughs, a little hysterically. Patrick fiddles with the folded cuff of his blue button-up.

Stevie’s brows furrow. “Are _you_ okay?”

He looks away. “Uh, you just came out! Let’s not make this about me.”

Stevie rolls her eyes. “Bake me a rainbow layer cake later. Spill.”

“Um, are you planning on telling David, or?” Patrick asks, then bites his lip so hard it turns white.

“Haven’t thought about it,” Stevie lies. “It’s awkward on a few levels.”

Patrick exhales a laugh. “Yeah. Well, tell me if you end up thinking about it.”

He stands up and looks in the store window, face bathed in the warm light twinkling inside. Stevie’s stomach twists. She knows Patrick is too good at compartmentalizing, at keeping things tucked away. He and David are still scraped raw by the weekend Patrick’s parents spent here, emotionally exhausted even though it turned out beautifully. After, Stevie helped David process how tidily Patrick hides the disorderly parts of his life, and rehearsed using “I” statements for their Relationship Talk about it. Just like she’d been the one to pick him up and confiscate his clout goggles, after Rachel. Fuck. Stevie has to tell David.

Patrick walks up the steps to the store, and pauses with his hand on the knob. “Your fly is undone.”

“Oh my God!” Stevie’s face burns red as Patrick walks into the store, chucking a little to himself. Stevie zips up her jeans. She takes a moment to consider just walking home and calling the night a disaster. Instead, she heads back in time to see Moira cajoling the crowd into giving her a standing ovation.

David is waiting at the register for the captive audience to start purchasing again. He still looks a little miffed, shooting annoyed glances at Alexis—

Who’s talking to that guy from Elmridge again. Stevie’s jaw clenches as she watches Alexis tap her number into the guy’s phone, then swat at his chest. As if her face wouldn’t be between Stevie’s thighs right now, if they hadn’t been interrupted. Stevie wonders if Alexis even noticed that she was outside and if Alexis gives a shit that they got caught. If Alexis gives a shit that _Stevie_ might care they got caught.

Whatever.

Stevie perches on the counter besides David. “You look like you need a drink.”

David rolls his eyes, but pulls out two heavy glasses. He muddles mint and basil, then pours in lime moonshine and some tonic water. They clink their drinks together. Stevie’s eyes fall closed when she sips. “Damn, this is good.”

Alexis saunters over. “Yum, can I have a try?”

Stevie is burningly annoyed with her, crispy and ruined like blackened toast. “Fuck off,” she says, and it comes out way harsher than the joking tone she’d meant.

Alexis’s eyes widen. She turns away, giving Stevie one last bewildered look before slipping back into the crowd.

David looks confused but doesn’t ask, just finishes his drink and keys up the register as a line forms. Stevie stays up there with him. She feels— protective, almost, because she knows that it will suck to hear about her and Alexis. She’s upset that it might hurt him, even though it’s her fault. They slip into an easy rhythm, Stevie bagging items while David charms everyone into upselling with a garnish.

When they close, Stevie starts to sweep. David and Patrick kick her out. “You’ve helped enough,” David says, generous like they don’t all know it’s so he and Patrick can finally make out in the back.

Alexis is waiting outside, leaning against the side of the building. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Alexis twirls a strand of her hair nervously. “I just, like, didn’t love where we left things earlier.”

“Okay.”

Alexis takes a step forward and asks, “Can I kiss you?”

It’s the first time Alexis has ever actually asked Stevie for something, acknowledged whatever this is with words. There’s a lump in Stevie’s throat as she nods.

Alexis touches delicate fingers to the side of Stevie’s face, then gives her a chaste kiss. “Good night.”

***

“When was the last time you did something stupid?” Stevie asks as she passes David the last bag of groceries. He stacks the eggs carefully— arranging the trunk is always his job, he’s got a meticulous system— between two cases of soda cans to minimize potential movement.

“This morning when I agreed to grocery shop with you; you have such bad taste in yogurt,” David says, “Why?”

“Let’s do something stupid right now,” Stevie says. The Food ‘n Stuff is next to a hill. In high school, Stevie and her friends would skip class to smoke in the parking lot and race shopping carts down to the bottom. Her teeth ache with how much she wants David to agree to this, and she can’t quite figure out why. Except that some stupid teenage corner of her heart wants him to prove that they’re unconditional. If he would crash down a hill with her then surely he’d tolerate her fucking his sister.

She should just tell him.

She _wants_ to tell him.

There’s no reason why it should be this hard to find the words, except that her throat is dry as chalk dust. She’s not good at talking about things in general, let alone this.

He squints at her. “What?”

“Get in the cart.”

David flourishes with both hands down his body, at his black sweater shining with a patent leather design and his ripped jeans. “Do I look like I get in carts?”

“There’s a hill. It’s fun.”

“Ugh, no,” he says, shaking his head. “Do you even have health insurance?”

She deflates. Right. Of course, he wouldn’t want to. It’s a stupid idea. She can’t even remember why she wanted to suggest it.

His eloquent eyebrows furrow. With an annoyed noise, he folds up his long legs and clambers into the basket. Stevie stares at him, and he frowns back. “What, like I’d let you do it alone?”

Stevie stares at her stubby nails against the peeling plastic handlebar. Being his best friend is so wonderful it hurts, sometimes. Stevie rolls him over to the yellow grass and dirt at edge of the hill.

“So is this an attempted murder or—”

Stevie jogs with the cart. Right when it is cresting the hill, about to be torn from her hands by gravity, she hops onto the back. The cart careens down the hill. They’re both screaming. It’s a second-long blur that lasts an eternity, her eyes watering with the speed, air pushed back into her lungs before she can inhale, her stomach up somewhere between her ears. She’s only got one hand on the cart, the other clutching at the fabric on his shoulder. His hand clutches hers back.

The hill smooths into a valley. The cart loses momentum and starts backwards. Stevie jumps off and stabilizes it before it can flip. David looks stunned, but his mouth hangs open in a grin she thinks he probably doesn’t know he’s making.

Her teeth chatter with adrenaline; it’s hard to talk.

“What the fuuuuuuck,” he gasps, and climbs out of the cart. His knees are shaky. He flops onto the warm grass and pulls her down with him.

Stevie knows her eyes are sparkling. “That was fun.”

“You’re so weird,” David complains, like he’s not almost-cuddling with her in a field outside of the Food ‘n Stuff. She stares up at the aqua, cloudless sky.

“I’m your best friend, so what does that make you?”

There’s a beat of silence before David says, so quiet she nearly can’t hear him, “Lucky.”

She can hardly swallow, her throat is so thick. Her eyes sting. She keeps watching the sky, but she knows he’s watching her.

He asks, “What’s been up with you lately?”

She takes a deep breath. “The last time I did something stupid is… very recently. And repeatedly, actually.”

He rolls onto his side and props himself up on an elbow. His sweater is covered in bits of dry grass. “Beyond the normal amount?”

Stevie laughs a little. “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Um.” Her hands are shaking. There’s the clunking sound of Bob’s car passing by on the street. They’re fortunate he doesn’t know how to take photos on a smartphone, or the whole town would be seeing the two of them having a heart-to-heart in the weeds outside the Food ‘n Stuff. “Do you remember our conversation about wine?”

David neatly contains his startle. She wouldn’t have noticed it, if she didn’t know him so well. “Yes.”

“I’ve tried another wine, and I liked it.” The words lilt as she says them, and she realizes it’s to the tune of that Katy Perry song. God, what a stupid way to come out. It’s an off kilter realization that “coming out” is a concept that applies to her, now: the words feel like the wrong size, like a coat borrowed from a stranger.

David sits upright. There’s a leaf in his hair. Her heart hurts. He says, “Wow, okay. I’m glad you wanted to share that. Thank you for trusting me.”

Of course he’s good at this. Probably a thousand people have come out to him. Stevie knows Jocelyn sends high schoolers who need a mentor his way, not that Jocelyn has any gaydar— but maybe Jocelyn’s right about some of them, and maybe David makes it easier for those kids. Maybe if Stevie had grown up with someone like him, it wouldn’t have taken her this long to realize the way she felt about vivacious women could not be defined within the bounds of _straight_.

Annoyed, Stevie says, “Hi, I actually called to talk to my friend David, any chance he can pick up the phone?”

David snorts and settles back into the grass, a bit closer this time. His shoulder is sun-warm against hers. “So, like, was this a spontaneous epiphany or a guided one?”

“Guided.”

David sqwacks, delighted. He smacks her arm. “Get it.”

Stevie laughs. “Yeah.”

“Spill.”

Stevie stands up, and pulls him to his feet. “That’s enough sharing for one day, I think.”

He steers the shopping cart even as he whines about having to trudge uphill. He pushes the cart back into the carrel, then begins to badger her again. “So it’s someone in Schitt’s Creek? Someone I know?”

Stevie blanches. His eyes flicker over her face. His expression shutters into something stiff and prickly as he realizes. “Oh.”

She unlocks her car and climbs in. Her hands clench against the steering wheel. After a long, silent moment he climbs into the passenger seat. She starts the car. “Are you upset?”

They’re at the corner before he answers, but it’s not hostile: it’s contemplative like he’s really thinking about his answer. She’s so jittery she almost forgets to brake at the stop sign. He says, “No. Of course I’m not.”

Stevie exhales. “Good. That’s… I’m glad.”

“It’s not the first time this has happened,” David chuckles, not with much humor. “In New York, I’m pretty sure some people in our circles thought it was like… a Bucket List thing.”

“Gross,” Stevie says. His past is filled with terrible people, selfish and greedy users. Stevie hopes she is better than that. She wonders if it makes a difference that David was the one to end things between them and left her hurting; that Alexis is on the trajectory to do the same.

Also, he’s kissed Ted and Patrick has kissed Alexis, but she’s pretty sure that’s different than what he is talking about. Patrick’s housewarming is alcohol-blurry and she had spent most of it fantasizing about Emir. She’d forgotten until just now that her first kiss with Alexis, once upon a time, was at that party. It was— Stevie hadn’t felt anything, then, except irritated by how Alexis’s attention was on Ted the whole time. Like Stevie was a prop in some performance art about turning on straight guys who liked to see girls kiss.

David’s deep in thought. She can’t stand it. “What are you…?”

David shrugs with professional-grade nonchalance. He’s so full of shit. “You have actual feelings for her? It’s not just hooking up?”

Somehow, despite all of it, she does.

Stevie nods. His face twists, concerned. His fingers touch her wrist, just for a second, so quick she could blink and miss it, giving her a sympathetic squeeze.

He just learned about her and Alexis, and he’s bracing for her heartbreak too. Great.

“She can be careless, sometimes. But she’s a good person, and she’s my sister,” he says. There’s a defensive set to his jaw. Stevie doesn’t have siblings, and even if she did she probably would have hated them like she hates the rest of her family. So she’s not sure what’s going through his mind, but knowing David, it’s catastrophizing.

A clicking noise fills the car as she signals to turn. She distracts him. “You can take me to that gay bar in Elmridge now.”

He lights up, smacking his thighs with his palms. “Fuck  _yes,_ you have no idea. People will be tripping over themselves for you. And for the first time, you actually have an occasion where a flannel is advisable!”

She jabs him with her flannel-clad elbow. He squeaks as the car bumps over the curb as she pulls into the parking lot of Patrick’s apartment. She says, “Ugh, bye.”

David looks at her in dawning horror. “Oh my God, at the moonshine tasting were you two—”

“Byeeeee.”

***

“Let me smell one more time,” Stevie says, bringing Alexis’s wrist to her nose. There’s three vials of massage oil from Rose Apothecary. Stevie already knows which is her favorite but she pretends to sniff them all again, mostly just nuzzling her face against Alexis’s arm. “I think the cedarwood.”

Alexis nods, hair flouncing. One strand nearly gets caught in her peach lip gloss, but it doesn’t because her universe is exceptionally cooperative. “Stevie? I am so glad to hear you say that: cedarwood is definitely the best choice.”

Stevie’s fingers are still encircling Alexis’s wrist. It’s weird now, probably. She can’t stop herself from raising it to her face again, pressing a kiss against Alexis’s pulse point. Alexis hums in gentle pleasure.

“You could get on the couch,” Alexis suggests. The couch in the dressing room is ratty, but at this point Stevie’s standards could not be lower. She settles into the worn cushions and beckons Alexis closer. Alexis stays standing, her elegant thighs right at Stevie’s eyeline. Stevie wants to touch her.

Alexis gets one hand on each side of Stevie’s collar, fingertips stroking where muscle meets neck. She coos, “You’re so tense. My poor leading lady.”

“Yeah,” Stevie says, only half a lie, because every muscle along her shoulders are wound tight but it’s not from the musical.

“Take off your shirt,” Alexis says. Before Stevie can, Alexis is straddling her lap. Her skirt spills onto the couch on either side of them. Through Stevie’s athletic leggings, she can feel the press of bare skin and Alexis’s lacy underwear.

Stevie takes off her shirt, all elbows and awkwardness inches from Alexis’s face. But Alexis isn’t looking at Stevie like she’s stupid, she’s looking at Stevie like she wants to devour her. Her aqua eyes are dopey and shining. Stevie’s heart thuds.

Alexis pours massage oil into one palm and rubs her hands together. The air goes heavy and fragrant. “Let me take care of that.”

She starts low on Stevie’s sides, rubbing the fleshiest part of Stevie’s hip. Stevie’s breath leaves her in one exhale. Alexis kneads her way up and strokes back down. It’s more professional than sexy: Alexis clearly knows what she’s doing, unknotting every tense part of Stevie with confident hands. Of course it’s sexy too, with Alexis straddling her and her touch, but it’s different, somehow. It feels less like one of their games and more like Alexis had meant _Let me take care of you._

“How are you so good at this?” Stevie asks, throaty. Her head tips forward onto Alexis’s chest as Alexis stretches Stevie’s arm out, rubbing around her scapula. Stevie’s breath punches out of her chest as Alexis unknots something. The release that rushes through Stevie is more satisfying than an orgasm.

“I dated two massage therapists,” Alexis says, her thumb still digging into muscle, “Well, three if you count Pierre— but I don’t, that was just his cover story for Interpol.”

Stevie’s too liquid to manage a laugh. She thinks she will never be able to smell cedarwood again, for the rest of her life, without remembering what it felt like to be unraveled by Alexis Rose.

Alexis undos her bra, fingers tracing the red indents left behind. Stevie moans, mouth pressing into Alexis’s shoulder to stifle it.

Alexis’s hand strokes down Stevie’s spine, almost soothingly. “So, are you less tense now, or?”

“I can think of a few more things you could do,” Stevie says, lying down, pulling Alexis on top of her. Stevie can feel Alexis’s breath catch. There’s a moment Alexis spends staring at Stevie’s lips, face gooey and sweet like a toasted marshmallow.

They kiss, finally. Stevie’s relaxed and pliant, smiling up against Alexis’s lips. Alexis is smiling too; it’s not a quality kiss but it’s wonderful. Alexis kisses Stevie’s jaw. The movement shifts where Alexis is straddling her, and Stevie notices how wet she is. She’s soaked through her underwear and Stevie’s leggings. When Stevie walks to her car later, there will be a glistening patch right on her thigh—

She feels like dry brush in an electrical storm, going from spark to wildfire in a single heartbeat.

“Take it off,” Stevie says, working her hands up under Alexis’s dress. Alexis does. All Stevie can see is expanses of golden skin, and the white lace of her bralette and panties. They make out sloppily, everything slick with oil.

Alexis’s hands are frantic against her skin, moving quick and unpredictable— Stevie can’t anticipate where she’ll touch next, and it’s driving her wild. Alexis gasps into Stevie’s mouth, “I want this.”

“Take it.” Stevie arches as Alexis bites her neck, right over her thundering pulse point. The moment swells, a small eternity of pleasure under Alexis’s sharp little teeth. Then she keeps going. She kisses the dip where she had licked moonshine from Stevie’s skin, Stevie’s breasts, every one of her ribs.

Stevie’s ablaze but it’s clear Alexis is too, her thighs clenching where she’s straddling Stevie. Her face is flushed crimson. Stevie tangles a hand into her golden hair, guiding her lower, and Alexis gives an open-mouthed gasp.

Stevie’s leggings have ridden up. Alexis kisses her there, and Stevie groans. It’s wet and dirty; the material soaking through from Alexis’s attention and Stevie’s arousal. Alexis’s hands scratch down Stevie’s ass, holding her in place, nails digging—

Oh. Stevie can’t breathe.

The pinch of Alexis’s nails is unfamiliar, blunter. She’s taken off the acrylics.

“Fuck me,” Stevie begs. She can’t control herself now, writhing so hard she can hear the ancient couch creak. The words fall from her lips, “Please, Alexis, fuck me—”

When Alexis looks up at her, she’s wrecked. Her eyes are glassy and her chin is smeared with lipgloss and Stevie’s slick. “Yes, God, yes, I will.”

Alexis has to get up to peel off Stevie’s leggings and underwear. Stevie nearly can’t bear it. With Alexis up on her knees, Stevie can see how her lacy underwear is ruinously soaked. Then Stevie’s naked and goosebumped, staring up at the paneled ceiling of her dressing room.

Alexis takes the back pillows off the couch and throws them onto the floor so she has room to spread Stevie’s thighs. The sight of her staring down at Stevie is so erotic she has to close her eyes. So she doesn’t see it coming when Alexis tongues her filthily, sloppy wet, and sucks on her clit.

Stevie cries out and arches against the couch. Her hands grasp, desperate, for anything— one grips the back of the couch and the other finds Alexis’s hair. She holds on tight. It’s a struggle to stay grounded and she needs that touch or she’d float right out of her body into the starless night. The sky doesn’t get to have the stars: they are all here as frantic supernovas behind her eyelids and between her thighs.

Alexis kisses Stevie’s hipbone, incongruously tender. She rests her head on Stevie’s hipbone and stares at where she’s dripping. She trails one finger through Stevie’s folds. Stevie groans.

Alexis’s voice comes out shy. “I haven’t done this before.”

Stevie’s head is spinning. She can hardly process that. She sits up on her elbows so she can see Alexis better. “What?”

“Like, fingering anyone.”

Stevie’s chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath. “Just— it’s easy. Do what you like to do to yourself.”

“I— ugh, nevermind. Let’s just be sexy,” Alexis says, and sucks on Stevie’s inner thigh. She rubs at Stevie’s clit with her thumb, confident, and she _has_ done that to Stevie before: it’s so pleasurable that Stevie barely has the mental real estate to be confused.

“In me,” she gasps, and Alexis hesitates again.

Okay. Stevie sits up. She pushes Alexis until she’s sitting up as well, holding Stevie’s hand. Stevie tries not to get distracted by how one of her hands is wet. “We don’t have to do this.”

“No, I want to!” Alexis says, trying to pull her hands away. Stevie doesn’t let go. She knows if Alexis touches her again, they’ll never talk about this. “It’s just, the last time I had a first was when I was like, fifteen? I might not be good enough at it for you. I should have practiced on myself, ugh, I’m so lazy with my vibrator—”

Stevie thinks about how Alexis had reacted three weeks ago, when Stevie had joked it was _just okay_ after Alexis gave her four mind-blowing orgasms and then had the audacity to ask _how was it?_ Alexis had looked agitated like a rabbit in the shadow of a circling falcon. She’d dropped to her knees so hard there were bruises the next day and parted Stevie’s thighs, _sorry, sorry, I can be better—_ it had taken a lot of mollifying, a recounting of Stevie’s least talented past partners, and the promise of Rice Krispy treats to get her back up.

God. Stevie’s heart aches. The world is full of shit people, and she thinks Alexis has run into even more of them than Stevie has.

“You don’t have to be good,” Stevie says, playing with a strand of Alexis’s hair. Alexis’s gaze is fixed on a water stain on the ceiling. “We can just do it because we want to, and it’s nice and fun and feels good. Even if I don’t come.”

Alexis’s nose wrinkles. “Ohmygod, ew, don’t say you won’t come.”

Stevie rolls her eyes. She lets go of Alexis’s hands, then scoots to the opposite side of the couch. She leans back against the corner and spreads her legs.

“You said you wanted to practice,” Stevie says, and reaches down to touch herself.

“Holy _fuck,”_ Alexis says. She leans forward, watching Stevie closely. Stevie’s mouth drops open as she runs two fingers up and down her slit, bright tingles popping throughout her body with every upstroke.

“You could, too,” Stevie says. She keeps rubbing, her knees falling open further. There’s a hickey on her thigh where Alexis had sucked. She presses into it with her other hand. It throbs gorgeously.

Alexis’s hand presses against her white lacy underwear, just resting there as she stares at Stevie. Stevie takes the hand off her thigh and starts to caress the inner lips of her opening. Now she’s got one hand on her clit and the other about to enter herself. Alexis swallows, and shimmies off her underwear.

Stevie presses inside. Now that Stevie is thinking about it, it’s been a long time since she’s done this, too. Since before Emir, for sure. When she needed release, getting herself off quickly with her vibrator felt less pitiful than being slow and indulgent with her own touch, alone in her big bed, thinking of him. It’s nice, and simple. She’d forgotten how beautifully simple it was to do this.

Two fingers go in slick and easy. Penetration doesn’t do much for her— if she’s got a g-spot, she hasn’t found it— but it feels so good to clench around something as she plays with her clit. So good, oh, so—

She doesn’t realize she’s speaking out loud until she cuts herself off.

“Stevie,” Alexis whines. Her fingers are tentatively exploring herself. Stevie bites her lip, hard. Stevie’s hands on herself feel amazing right now, but it’s near impossible to resist taking them away and touching Alexis instead. But Stevie wants Alexis to have this, wants to give it to her.

A blissful eon passes with nothing but wet sounds and heavy breathing. When Alexis finally gets two fingers inside of herself, Stevie gasps with a bolt of pleasure like she’s being undone too. Alexis’s face is pinched in pleasure, like it only ever is when she’s really into it, when she’s too turned on to waste effort cultivating sexy faces. It’s the hottest thing, and Stevie can never tell her, because trying to do it on purpose would ruin it.

“What are you thinking about?” Alexis gasps out. She’s getting closer to something, hand moving faster, breath coming quicker.

“Uhn, I’m—” Stevie’s not a great talker. “There’s this fantasy, me and this girl—”

“Yes,” Alexis urges. Her hips are bucking into her hand.

“And she gets herself off; watching me get off on watching her. And I can’t hold back, I want to come, I’m circling my clit and it feels amazing, she’s amazing—”

“Yes,” Alexis says with a moan, and hunches in on herself as she comes. Stevie watches her contract around her own fingers, and it’s easy to follow her. Her whole body turns to static in warm pulsing waves. She arches as she comes, throwing her head back against the couch.

Alexis catches her breath first. “So. Practice. That was a good idea.”

Stevie licks her lips, and Alexis’s eyes drop to watch. Stevie leans closer and kisses her again, finally, Alexis soft and pliant against her. Alexis is so sweaty, like getting herself there took a lot out of her. Stevie feels all squished-up about it, gross levels of tenderness for the woman in her arms.

“What do you wanna do with that practice?” Stevie asks, falling back against the cushion. All of her limbs feel like jelly. She stretches her arms above her head and she’s on display, legs parted around Alexis’s lap. Alexis doesn’t do multiples, says she’s too sensitive after, but Stevie could come again and again. She could come five times and then run a marathon, except she could never run a marathon— but after sex is the closest she’d get.

“Yes,” Alexis hisses, delighted like she’s the one who’s going to come again. She kisses her with purpose. Stevie doesn’t need much warming up though, and soon Alexis is touching her. Stevie’s oversensitive and shaking, her hips jerking toward and away from Alexis’s every touch. Alexis braces her down with her forearm and uses her other hand to work her through it. She puts her fingers in Stevie, using her _right_ hand, the hand that had been inside herself—

Stevie writhes as she comes. It’s painfully, violently good: her whole body judders. Alexis soothes her, stroking her sweaty hair back from her face with one hand, even as the other fucks Stevie hard as she clenches and thrashes her way through orgasm.

After, she dozes for a few minutes in Alexis’s arms. Eventually, Alexis says, “Less tense now?”

It takes Stevie a minute to remember what she’s talking about. The lingering smell of cedarwood helps her put it together. Stevie elbows her. “You could stir me with a spoon.”

“Ew,” Alexis says, snuggling in happily.

When the sweat and slick starts to dry, gross and sticky, Stevie peels herself away. She tosses Alexis a wet wipe and uses another to clean herself up.

“How was your day?” Alexis asks, which really means that she wants to talk about how hers was.

“Got better towards the end there. How was yours?” Stevie indulges.

Alexis is staring at her hands. “Um. Busy. I got some nice girl talk in with Twy, though.”

“What about?”

“Just, like, advice,” Alexis says with a shoulder shimmy, more wooden than usual. “Hey, I could— I could ask your advice, too, I guess.”

“Hmm, I guess you could,” Stevie says, pulling a hairbrush out from her vanity. She starts to detangle her hair.

“Ted got this really big-deal job in the Galapagos,” Alexis says. “It’s six months.  Ted will stay if I want to, but he wants me to go with him.”

Stevie drops her hairbrush. It rattles against the counter.

“Oh,” she says, and busies herself getting dressed, her good mood popped like a balloon.

"The Galapagos is kind of not cute, maybe. And six months is so long: what if David gets lonely? Or doesn't know what sweater to wear, and walks around looking dressed-wrong? And," Alexis rambles, "I don't know if I want to leave... everyone."

"Okay."

“Do you think I should go?”

Stevie knows resentment. She’s had relationships that eroded like rock under a drip, the day by day difference unnoticeable until suddenly there was nothing left. It takes her a moment to gather herself enough to speak, and then she says, “I think if Ted gives this up for you, it’ll change something. Maybe not now, but eventually.” 

“Something will change no matter what I choose.”

“That’s true.”

“Do you think I should go?” Alexis repeats.

Stevie has never begged anyone for anything. She would rather go hungry than plead for scraps: she doesn’t have much, barely even her dignity. She’s just her pride and a flannel collection, at this point. She’s the front desk of an inherited motel. And she’s Sally fucking Bowles, thanks to the pity of Moira Rose.

She almost says, _no, stay for me._ She thinks about David saying _New York, two bedrooms;_ Jake’s apathetic gaze; Emir rejecting her offer of a weekend together, of leaving Schitt’s Creek behind, of changing who she is for him. _This is just something that happens when it happens._ Stevie is not the type of person to beg, because she knows that she has nothing to gain from it. It doesn’t matter how nicely you ask, if no one wants what you have to give.

“What is there to stay for?” Stevie asks, but it’s a rhetorical question. It’s another way of saying _nothing_ , even though that’s not true— Alexis has her family and her business, which is very much not nothing, but it will all be there when she gets back. There is nothing for Alexis to _lose_. Alexis, she bets, has always had her pick of the best cuts at the table. She has never gone hungry.

“Okay,” Alexis says. Her expression closes like a drawbridge over a moat, impenetrable; she is a stony castle with turrets stretching towards the sky, the type of beautiful that someone could spend a lifetime wanting and never having. Alexis puts on her clothes, and leaves without looking back.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Me watching the Kit Kat Girls and Patrick on stage: GodIWishThatWereMe.jpeg
> 
> Title from Halsey’s “Castle.”
> 
> Comments make my day <3


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